


A Little Mystery to Figure Out

by lodessa



Series: Assorted Tumblr Prompts [8]
Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Fantasizing, Feelings Realization, Late Night Conversations, Rumors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 03:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lodessa/pseuds/lodessa
Summary: Mathias shows up at Cady's office unexpectedly late at night.





	A Little Mystery to Figure Out

**Author's Note:**

> Set more or less during the show's final season. Missing scene or canon divergence, depending on what you think happened or didn't afterwards.
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>  
> 
> **Written for a Tumblr anon to the prompt:**
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>  
> 
> _Number 17: “I can’t sleep, can I stay here?” for Cady/Mathias, please?_

Cady just about jumps out of her skin when she hears the rap at the door. Who on earth would show up this late, when she already should have gone home hours ago? She considers who she might have pissed off recently, who her dad might have pissed off recently. But then she considers that someone showing up this late might be someone desperate and seeking help. So she grabs the rifle and walks to the door.

“Who is it?” she calls out, standing the side instead of in front of the door.

“Mathias,” she can hear muffled through the door. “I saw your light was on.”

It is Mathias when she unlocks and opens the door, rifle still in her hand. She appraises him, noticing his hair is wet and that he's wearing a t shirt that seems a little too small for him with his jeans and boots. Not official business then, at least not officially.

“It’s late,” she comments.

“And yet you are still here working,” he replies, walking past her inside.

She shuts and bolts the door again, turning to find him wandering sort of aimlessly.

“What’s going on, Mathias? Why are you really here?” she asks. 

They’ve been working together well recently she thinks. For all that he’s been butting heads with her dad for years, Mathias is smart. He knows how to pick his battles, how to take limited options and make them stretch. Maybe that’s why he and her dad clash, she considers, Walt Longmire has never known when to strike a compromise.

It’s a skill Cady is finding she could have used more expertise in.

“Someone decided to set my place on fire earlier tonight,” he tells her.

“Oh my god…” she exclaims, crossing over and putting her hand on his upper arm, “What?!”

“You know how people get when they don’t like the answers you have to give them. Don’t worry, I borrowed a friend’s truck, so me being here shouldn’t paint such a bright target on you here.”

It’s a distraction tactic, addressing a concern she hadn’t voiced to avoid the true worry.

“I wasn’t even thinking about that. I’m just glad you’re alright. Do you have any idea who could have done it?”

“There was a… message, keyed into my paint job,” he looks a little awkward when he hesitates.

“And?”

“It’s ridiculous,” he averts his eyes. “Whoever it was implied that I didn’t have my priorities straight. That I was prioritizing something other than the best interests of the tribe.”

“We both know that’s not true. You work day and night, thanklessly, trying to make things better around here.”

“I’ll just show you,” he finally says, taking out his cellphone and pulling up a picture before handing it to her. 

Oh. She had definitely not seen that coming.

“So I guess maybe that’s why I drove by here, thinking about where someone got that idea that you and I…”

The dim light from her desk lamp casts shadows that only serve to highlight those impossible cheekbones and the perfection of his profile as he glances away again. Mathias is good looking. Cady isn’t blind. It’s not something that she usually takes the time to think about, not when they are always busy dealing with tough situations, but it is certainly something she’s aware of.

“Hey,” she says, “Whoever this is probably just knew it would get a rise out of you.”

“Probably,” he straightens up. “But I guess I thought you should know in case the rumor took off or this asshole directed their attention towards you.”

“That’s thoughtful,” she accepts. “What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. The same friend who leant me the truck offered me his couch, but I couldn’t sleep. I don’t suppose I know stay here for a while.”

She fills in the wet hair and the undersized shirt as him having taken a shower and changed as well. Just how bad was that fire?

“You could,” she says, “if you really wanted to make sure that rumor took off.”

Coming here was really the last thing he should have done, if he wanted to squash whatever belief might be building. He could have called. But here he is, showing up in the middle of the night and asking if he can stay.

“That’s a fair point. I guess I should get going then-” he turns to head back to the door. 

A thought occurs to her, though maybe it is a wishful one

“Wait…” she finds herself calling him back. “I should really be getting out of here myself. You could come home with me… I mean to my house. I have a spare room,” she hastens to clarify.

She’s at least as hopeless as he is, she considers, but it feels like the right thing anyway, and since when has any Longmire let pragmatism get in the way of their gut feeling about what they should do?

“Why would you…” He seems taken aback but not opposed.

Maybe it’s the power of suggestion or the late hour, but she finds her mind rabbiting in uncharted directions: imagining the two of them here on her desk, her hands running through his hair as her legs wrap around him; envisioning him spread out on her bed at home under her; seeing them in her kitchen with him pressing her up against the refrigerator door.

“It seems like the least I can do,” she shrugs instead, brushing off the images in her mind and cracking a casual smile. “Besides, it only seems fair we get a rise out of my dad too if half the rez is going to start making wild assumptions.”

“You could always invite him over for breakfast,” he banters back, “I’m sure that would go over really well.”


End file.
